


Baby You Belong With Me

by tehhumi



Series: B2MEM 2019 [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cheating, Cousin Incest, Dark, Gaslighting, Id Fic, M/M, Maedhros was fucked up by Angband, Self-Blame, Sexual Coercion, Sibling Incest, Victim Blaming, and is taking it out on everyone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: After Angband, Maedhros sees relationships so much more simply.





	Baby You Belong With Me

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt Keep it in the family: Maedhros x Maglor x Fingon

Maedhros knew that Fingon was His. He knew though that if he tried to take Fingon without Fingolfin’s approval, there would, despite any laws of succession, be battle, and Maedhros was not in good enough condition to fight. The fight might be averted if he killed Fingolfin, but then Fingon would forget who he belonged to.  
So Maedhros traded the crown for Fingon. Oh, he dressed it up prettily, as elves didn’t like to believe they were selling their children, no matter how kind the master. Unsafe for the King and Crown Prince to live so close together where one attack could kill them both; Fingon needed to enforce the King’s will in the eastern half of the kingdom; Maedhros even claimed vulnerability after so many years with no one caring for him. But after all was said and done, the facts were simple. Fingolfin wore the crown, and Fingon left Lake Mithrim alongside Maedhros.

Angband had let Maedhros see the world clearly, as so few other elves did. The important things weren’t love or joy or parentage, they were command and possession. Fingolfin commanded Maedhros, and Maedhros commanded the Feanorian army. Orders in battle must be obeyed, with disobedience punishable by death, but little day-to-day control was expected.  
No one owned Maedhros anymore; Feanor was dead, and he had escaped Morgoth and Sauron. Maedhros owned Fingon and Maglor and Celegorm and the rest of his brothers. These seven were the ones who were loyal to him, not to the Noldor, or Morgoth’s defeat, and certainly not to Fingolfin.

In Himring, Fingon seemed concerned at times, but he always went willingly enough. Even when the guards were floors away, or it was just the two of them camping under the stars, Fingon never pushed Maedhros away. That was good, that Fingon knew whose he was.

Fingon was still Crown Prince though, and he and Maedhros were both under the authority of the High King. Fingolfin didn’t call his son back to Hithlum very often, not wanting to leave the Feanorians unsupervised, but when he did there was nothing to do but go.  
It was one such visit when Maedhros felt lonely. His thoughts went to those who were His, and if any of them could comfort him. Curufin and Caranthir were both too proud, and would not come willingly. He could force them of course - with enough pain you can make people do anything - but there was little point in breaking what was His. Amrod and Amras refused to be seperated, and with two bedmates it would be hard for Maedhros to maintain control. Celegorm would be willing enough, but would try to be dominant over his elder brother. Maglor though, he believed it his fault Maedhros waited so long for rescue, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make amends. Maglor would not need to be broken to make him come, and would be obedient once he understood Maedhros’s desires.  
So next time Maglor was in Himring, Maedhros asked a favor. He didn’t sleep well alone, the nightmares and memories tangling up in his mind until he awoke certain that he would never see a friendly face again. Would Maglor please stay with him, just for a few nights until Maedhros was less exhausted? After that of course Maglor could go back to patrol, he had more important thing to do with his time than care for a cripple.  
Maglor announced, in his beautiful voice that carried to every corner of the hall, that of course he would stay with Maedhros, and give him whatever aid and companionship he wished, for as long as Maedhros desired him to stay.  
The first night, Maedhros held his brother close and no more.  
On the morning, he composed a message to Caranthir, and perhaps the messenger could borrow Maglor’s horse, as it was far faster than any other beast in Himring?  
The second night Maedhros took what was his right. Maglor struggled at first, but after Maedhros hissed, “You owe this to me,” he went limp. When Maedhros was done he cleaned the stains from Maglor’s thighs and the tears from his face, and held the younger in his arms again.  
Maedhros didn’t worry; tears were normal when ownership was first demonstrated. Fingon and he had been an exception only because they had been so young and had not known the proper way of things.  
Certainly Maedhros had cried when Feanor had asked for the Oath, and when Morgoth had taken his ear, and when Sauron had first taken him. In time though he had learned, and Maglor would as well.

Maglor went to the stables that day. He stared at the empty stall where his horse had been, and started towards the other horses but did not saddle any of them. He did not sing at dinner, and afterwards started towards his guest room before Maedhros called for him. But he followed when called, and removed his clothes without complaint or the pretense of a nightshirt.  
Things continued such for months, and with time Maglor began to play his harp again and to exercise the horses in loops around the courtyard. The messenger on Maglor’s horse returned after a few weeks, apologizing for the delay but blaming the roads.  
Eventually, word came that Fingon was returning east. Maedhros said simply, “The Gap would be improved by the return of its commander,” and by nightfall Maglor had departed.  
The Lord of Himring prepared for his reunion with his lover.

 

The question came after a strategy meeting, planning a major offensive against Morgoth. Maedhros could hardly claim that the cavalry commander was unnecessary at such a meeting, or the Crown Prince. So Maglor and Fingon were both in Himring, and one afternoon Fingon came to the guest room that had been hastily decorated as Maglor’s.  
“Does Maedhros seem different to you than he used to be?”  
Maglor looked up at Fingon in a panic. What if he’d figured out Maedhros was unfaithful? Would he blame Maglor for seducing him away? He hadn't meant to, but he occasionally enjoyed it, and there must be something wrong with him for liking sex with his own brother. “What do you mean? He’s left handed now, of course.”  
“Not physically, emotionally. He seems… distant.”  
Maglor repressed his shudder at the thought of how close Maedhros got to him at times. “He’s been through something terrible, it’s only expected that he needs time to readjust.”  
“He’s had years, decades even. I don’t expect him to tell me details of what he went through, but he won’t let me in at all.”  
“Oh?”  
“I’ll mention a battle where I was scared, or the pressure in living up to my father’s expectations, and he’ll say nothing. Or he’ll reassure me, tell me I’m a great warrior and capable of anything, but he won’t volunteer anything in return.”  
“It hardly seems honest to keep a tally of emotional openness.”  
“That’s not the point! The point is I’m worried about him.” Fingon paused, then said softly, “Do you know, he hasn’t said he loves me since Valinor? It was at Alqualonde, when I’d stopped a Teler about to shove him overboard. That was the last time.”  
“Do you doubt that he loves you still?” Maglor’s first reaction was fear that Fingon will leave Maedhros, and Maedhros will devote all his attention to Maglor. His second reaction was shame at his selfishness, thinking of his own comfort before how such an abandonment would devastate Maedhros.  
“I know he still loves me; he gave up the throne so that my father would let us be together. I don’t think there’s a more obvious demonstration of love than sacrificing something you’ve worked your whole life for.”  
“Then what’s the problem?”  
“If he’s not saying it, there’s a reason. I’m worried that something I’ve done has made him feel unwelcome, or else he’s had admissions of love used against him. It would be a terribly lonely way to live, always afraid that whatever you care for will be taken away, that any weakness will be torn apart. I want to help him, if I can.”  
Maglor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how earnest Fingon was. The mad idea of telling him what Maedhros had really become reared its head, but he shoved it down. Spreading the truth would help no one, only frighten Fingon and anger Maedhros. He could give an answer without lies, though.  
“Maedhros is constantly aware of politics. He was so even in Tirion, and having more riding on him made it stronger. If you believed Maedhros unfit to rule, you have to either arrest your lover or conceal it from the king and commit treason. He doesn’t want to put you in that position.”  
Fingon smiled a little at that. “He always has felt it his place to protect the rest of us. Does he have anyone he can turn to?”  
“No one expects my brothers and I to actually report things to Fingolfin. Maedhros can be honest with us.” Not that he was, but he could be if he wished to.  
“Alright, I’ll try to stop pushing. I still wish he would say he loves me though, I can’t see any problem with that.”  
“Why don’t you ask Maedhros why he doesn’t say it, instead of looking for reassurance from me?”  
“You don’t think I would sound too needy?”  
“Trust me, you won’t scare Maedhros off by being too devoted to him.”


End file.
